Cashing In

Chapter 3

3

“Wake up. It’s time to roll,” barked one correction officer. “You have an all-expenses paid trip to state prison.”

John was snoring in his cell. The guards had placed him in protective custody after he broke his ribs.

“Inmate! Wake up. I don’t have all day.”

“What time is it?” asked John.

“3 a.m. Time to roll. Rise and shine, kid.”

“Where am I going?”

“The bus is leaving in ten minutes. Roll up your sheets and leave the rest.”

John yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“Cell seven,” yelled the officer. The corrections officers in the control center opened the cell doors.

“Let’s go. Let’s go. Let’s go! Get up. Your limo is outside waiting for you,” said the officer.

“Why do they transfer us at 3 in the morning? This is ridiculous,” said John in a sleepy voice.

The prison system didn’t care about the inmate’s schedule or interrupting their beauty sleep. The prison authorities liked keeping the inmates in the dark and on their feet. Prison officials felt that the less information that the inmates had, the better. It made it harder for the inmates to organize. Prisoners were denied their freedom, but they had one thing in their favor: time. The endless amount of time at their disposal could lead to coordination between different prisons and street gangs flooding the already overcrowded prison system.

The officer escorted John to the door. The bus was waiting to transfer John and thirty other inmates to Homestead Correctional Facility, which was nicknamed ‘The Jungle’ by the inmates housed there.

“Move your hands, inmate,” an officer instructed.

“Sorry, I’m still half asleep,” said John as he yawned.

“It’s time for your pretty belt,” said the officer. “We always transport inmates leaving our facility with shackles around their waists and feet. These are the rules. Get used to it.”

“Good to know,” John said. He hadn’t made a joke or laughed in weeks. The Miami Dade jail experience had been traumatizing for him. Not only had he been assaulted on multiple occasions, but depression and anxiety made it nearly impossible for him to sleep. He also lost fifteen pounds.

“Move, inmates!” shouted an officer. “Time to ship out.”

“Get on the bus. Sit down and shut up. We don’t want to hear a word out of any of you,” instructed another officer.

The inmates piled on to the bus, which looked like a school bus, but with tinted windows and bars. One of the officers closed a thick gate separating the inmates from the correction officers.

“We don’t want you to cause us any trouble. If you do, my main man Officer Mike here will stop the bus, and I personally with throw you off it,” said one officer.

The bus had one or two high-profile inmates sentenced for drug crimes, so the department of corrections decided to have two police escorts to prevent any potential security breaches.

“You ready, Sheriff Rivera? We’ll follow you. Please take the scenic route along 836,” said Captain Stan, a veteran officer who had thirty years in the Miami Dade Corrections system and could not wait to retire next month.

“Roger that, captain. I’m going to light it up and give you boys an escort. Officer Cruz, are you ready? Let’s roll,” responded Rivera.

The two sheriffs jumped into the cruisers and turned on their lights and sirens. The bus pulled out of the main jail in downtown Miami and headed toward Florida State Road 836, known as the Dolphin Expressway, one of Miami’s busiest highways.

“Captain Stan, how do you like this view? What a beautiful day,” said Sheriff Rivera over the radio.

“Ten-Four, Sheriff. Thanks for giving us an escort. I’m certainly going to miss you when I retire next month. I’ll be thinking of you while I’m lying on the beach at Key Biscayne,” responded Captain Stan.

“We’re going to miss you, Captain. The best captain in all of Miami Dade Corrections,” responded Rivera.

“Don’t make his ego any bigger than it already is,” Officer Mike said over the radio.

“Hey, don’t pick on my main man,” he responded.

One of the inmates shouted, “Captain, can you let me stop off to see my old lady? She lives close by.”

“Maybe next time. For now, stay seated and shut the heck up,” responded Captain Stan.